Someday
by christineexx
Summary: This is a look into Steven Hyde's childhood, the neighbor who helped him through the worst of it, and the rules of life he derived from their experiences together.
1. Intro

_**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I've decided to add to my ever-growing list of open stories by finally posting this one. I thought maybe it would give me the motivation to finally start writing it again. Hopefully it does because I love writing backstories, especially when it comes to the one and only Steven Hyde. Worst case scenario, I have eight chapters to upload for you all. I hope you like it.**_

Steven was sitting on his bed, curled up in a little ball and staring at the floor when his mother barged in. She threw his door open and he winced as he heard it slam against the wall, sure that she was heading in the direction of yet another beating. Although she usually kept the abuse at an average of three to four various tortures a day, if she was in a really great mood she would up the count to anywhere from six to eight. It had only been half an hour since she'd thrown her Zippo lighter at his head, burning off a large chunk of his hair, but he knew that if she was pissed or inebriated enough that wouldn't mean shit to her.

"Bud and I are goin' out," she purred to him in a seductive tone that she didn't seem to be able to turn off while she was high. "If this house is still a mess when we get back, I swear to God—"

"Edna, get the fuck in the car!" he heard his dad scream from the living room. A disgusted look simultaneously crossed Edna and Steven's faces, but that didn't stop her from spitting in Steven's general direction and following the voice of his father.

As usual, as soon as the front door slammed shut Steven was at the window in his bedroom. He pressed his face up against it to make sure that his parents had really left; that they were really gone. Once their car was out of the driveway he would usually pull away and do whatever chores they had assigned him, but today something stopped him. Just as he was about to turn and face the task of cleaning his room, he caught sight of the house across the street.

He stared blankly at the car that was sitting in the driveway across from his. It was bright red and although he was only seven years old with no real knowlege of the matter, its lack of rust and dents and its bright red color lead him to believe that it was quite expensive. He was still staring at it in awe when the door opened, and out came a tall man in a business suit. He wore a scowl on his face, which only further deepened when he turned back to the car and his mouth began to form words. From the redness of his face, Steven could only assume that he was yelling.

Moments after the man had turned his back, a small girl in a frilly pink dress daintily hopped out of the backseat. Steven watched her follow what he presumed to be her father. She had a light spring in her step, and she seemed completely out of place in the run-down neighborhood. Steven had just let out a wry smile— _she was such a girl—_ when she stopped in her tracks and her head snapped up to look around her. Her eyes trained on his evaluating gaze and for a moment, she did nothing but stare at him from where she stood. Then, she wordlessly stuck up her middle finger and flounced after her dad, who had already disappeared inside.

Later that night, Steven took out a spiral notebook that his mother had bought for the first day of school and in his sloppy handwriting wrote the first in a long series of rules that would eventually determine everything he would ever be:

 _September 4_ _th_ _, 1967. Rule #1: Looks can be deceiving._


	2. Chapter 1: September 5th, 1967

**Author's Note: The intro wasn't much so I decided to post the first chapter. Can't exactly get hooked before you've met the star of the show, can you? So here we are, where it all begins. I hope you like it.**

Steven was staring in the mirror at his reflection, examining the singed portion of his hair and cursing his mother for causing its existence. He knew to fix the damage he'd have to get it evened out— the chunk that had been burnt out was far too noticeable— but he didn't know how or when he would get the opportunity. He couldn't ask either of his parents; they'd hit him for even suggesting that they waste their money on his hair. Then they would try to do it themselves, and experience had taught him not to trust them with sharp objects. He frowned and fingered the curly-cues surrounding the missing ones, hating the idea of parting with any more.

He heard the sound of a door slamming shut, meaning that somebody was either coming home or leaving. When he heard the sound of a glass bottle hitting the counter, though, he knew that it was a telltale sign that his mother was done doing whatever she did in her bedroom and was now available to 'bond' with her son. Steven made the split-second decision to leave, hastily exiting the bathroom and making his way out the front door.

Once he was safely outside, he let out a breath of relief. Even if his mom had heard his departure, she would be far too concerned with drinking to bother with him. He looked around to try and decide what his next move would be before spotting the new girl across the street. She was knelt on the sidewalk, drawing something small too small for Steven to make out with large purple chalk

As she had the day before, she felt his gaze from afar, and her eyes met his with a look that challenged him, daring him to come any closer. He hesitated before taking a step towards her, and another, and another until finally he was on her side of the street.

Today, her frilly pink dress had been replaced by a simple green one. Her hair was pulled into loose pigtails and neatly tied bows hung from them. Steven's apprehensiveness faded when her innocent appearance registered with him. He was again struck by the same feeling he'd had when he first saw her: that she was completely unfit to live in his neighborhood.

"What happened to your head?" she inquired, her direct question changing Steven's thoughts immediately just like her middle finger had yesterday.

He frowned at her and responded, "Nothin'." He could tell from her incredulous face that she had a very definite idea of what had happened in her mind, but he decided that he didn't want to get his mom mad at him by having the new girl guess anything about his home life this early on. He changed the subject by asking, "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" she retorted immediately, dismissing the idea of revealing it to him this soon. Or, at least, before she knew anything about him. It was something her daddy had taught her to do, and even though she didn't understand it she knew to trust him when it came to those things.

He felt the cold shoulder she'd given him but at his young age didn't recognize the paranoid and cynical reasoning behind her answer. He looked up at her face and said earnestly, "Steven Hyde."

She seemed to mull that over in her head for a moment before she nodded, her pigtails bobbing along with her head. "Hiya, Hyde! I'm Julianna."

"It's Steven," he corrected her, assuming that she hadn't heard the first name he'd given. When she stared at him blankly, he realized that he must be making a poor first impression. He didn't want to seem uncool.

"What's the difference?" She looked around at the houses surrounding them before stating, "This neighborhood looks dumb. What do you do for fun? Are there any kids around?" She scoped it out a second time, noting that there were no toys or bikes out on any of the lawns. "Nevermind. I can already tell that we're the only ones."

"I'm not a _kid,_ " he informed her, puffing out his chest in a vain attempt to make his malnourished body seem bigger. "I'm seven years old. I'm starting second grade next week."

"Really? You're not a kid?" She inflicted a light sarcastic tone in her voice, but once it became apparent he didn't recognize it she just told him outright. "That was sarcasm. It's when you say the opposite of what you mean to be funny. Besides, _I'm_ still a kid, and I'm three years older than you."

He counted in his head and when the math added up his eyes widened. "You're in the _fifth grade?_ " He couldn't believe that he was really standing here talking to a fifth grader. He did, however, store her explanation of sarcasm away for future use.

"Fourth," she responded disinterestedly, going back to examining the drawing she'd been working on before he came over. Suddenly, she got an idea and a devilish grin lit up her features. "Hey, want me to fix your hair?"

He frowned and his hands flew up possessively to his head, feeling the bushy hair that separated him from the rest of the kids in the town. "Are you good at haircuts?" he asked cautiously. "I don't wanna look stupid."

"You already look stupid," she retorted with a grin, getting to her feet and starting for the door of her house. She glanced back at where he stood, glued to his spot on the sidewalk. "Come on!"

He hesitated only briefly before hurrying to catch up behind her. He didn't want her to think he was lame and rule him out entirely as soon as they met. And besides; she was right. There wasn't really much she could do to make his hair look any worse.

Steven paid absolutely zero attention to the girl he was following as he surveyed the house. It was shabbily built and resembled the general layout of his home, but her father had furnished the run-down rooms far more extravagantly than Edna and Bud. Steven glanced up at the sparkling chandelier that really had no business hanging in the middle of a musty room, complete with broken floors and wallpaper that peeled to reveal a wall that used to be painted green.

In fact, he was so fascinated by her house— why did she have so much expensive stuff if she lived _here_? And, furthermore, why did she live here if she could afford a bright-red sports car like hers and fancy stuff?— that he was easily guided into the bathroom and sat in the bathtub. He didn't even notice she was ready to cut his hair until he felt something cold press against his scalp. He cringed, but forced himself to stay seated as she began her surgery.

A large clump of curls fell into his lap, causing him to jump up. His mouth was agape as he ran over to the mirror on the other side of the room, running his hand down the streak of buzzed hair that now resided there. He turned back to face her and squeaked, "What are you doing?!"

Her eyes narrowed at him as she ordered, "Sit down. I'm giving you a haircut. Deal with it." She pointed to the chair and, with tears welling in his eyes, he sat down where he'd rested before. He bit his tongue to make sure he remained silent as she continued shaving off his silky locks.

She scowled at him and as she finished the horrible deed muttered, "It'll grow back. Don't be such a baby."

 _September 5_ _th_ _, 1967._ _Rule #2: Never let anybody touch your hair._ Ever.


End file.
